


Not An Advantage

by SaraStarchild



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Body Horror, Gen, Not A Fix-It, Psychological Horror, Reimagining, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:08:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22136815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaraStarchild/pseuds/SaraStarchild
Summary: When I first saw this scene of IT in the theater I had thought of this AU (or character-swap-out or whatever you want to call it), but then I completely forgot out about it until just recently, when I watched IT for the second time so I could watch IT: Chapter Two after I bought both movies on Blu-Ray.Summary: Mycroft Holmes (Bill) and his friends are under the Neibolt house to rescue Irene (Bev), but Mycroft finds someone else...
Kudos: 5





	Not An Advantage

Mycroft Holmes stood in the sewer, flashlight shaking in his hand. He could hear his friends –

John, Greg, Molly, Philip, Sally –

– all trying to get Irene, floating and possessed by the clown, down and back to earth behind him. Mycroft had every intention of getting her down when he had entered the lair, too, but then something else caught his eye, just beyond the mountain of lost things in the center of the room, surrounded by floating children.

He couldn’t make it out, exactly, from behind the greywater spilling from one of the drains above them, but he knew exactly what it was.

It was a figure – a small figure, holding a paper boat in one hand, dressed in a grey turtleneck shirt…

“Where’s Mycroft?” he heard Irene ask from behind him, and he could see the light from Molly’s flashlight shining against Mycroft, creating a silhouette of Mycroft on the wall before him.

But Mycroft couldn’t tear his eyes away from the boy before him.

“Sh-Sherlock,” Mycroft breathed, and the boy – his brother – stepped out from behind the water, stepping out into the light.

That was the first time Mycroft saw it – the blood on his shirt, the tear of his sleeve, the missing arm –

“What took you so long?” Sherlock asked – whimpered, more like, stepping closer. He was wearing the clothes – he was wearing the same clothes he had gotten lost in –

And his arm was missing – his arm was _gone_ – ripped from him – taken – _eaten –_

“I – I was looking for you this whole time,” Mycroft tried to assure him.

“I couldn’t find my way outta here,” Sherlock whined, and Mycroft opened his mouth again, ready to make the promise that they would all get out of the sewers, every single one of them, but then Sherlock spoke again. “He said I could have my boat back, Myc…”

At the sound of his name, Mycroft couldn’t keep his tears inside him, any longer. Suddenly, he was sobbing, weeping as he watched his brother step closer and closer. He was so small, so alone, so dirty from the year he had been missing, and not to mention his arm –

Mycroft couldn’t look away from his arm.

But he did, tearing his eyes away from his brother’s shoulder to look him in the eye.

“W-Was she fast?” he asked, as if they weren’t standing in the lair of the monster that had eaten his arm and that Sherlock had only been gone for an hour or two, but Sherlock didn’t smile.

“I couldn’t keep up with it,” Sherlock said, and something shifted in Mycroft.

“‘She,’ Sherlock,” he corrected him. “You call boats ‘she.’”

He had known this – Mycroft had _told him_ this – and Sherlock had agreed – just like he would, now. Just like he had to, now – he would smile and he would agree – he would correct himself – he would say ‘she,’ just as he had before –

“Take me home, Myc,” Sherlock said, finally.

Mycroft could feel his friends behind him – watching the scene unfold in front of them – watching his little brother beg –

“I wanna go _home_ ,” Sherlock whined, crying now, and Mycroft cried right along with him, his mind racing. “I miss you! I wanna be with Mom and Dad!”

Tears still falling, Mycroft shook his head, finding his voice.

“I want more than anything for you to be home,” he told the boy. “With Mom…and Dad…” he went on, stepping forward, beginning to close the distance between Sherlock and himself. “I miss you so much,” he whispered through his tears.

“I love you, Myc,” Sherlock said in reply, tying a knot in Mycroft’s stomach.

“I love you, too,” he replied, looking the boy in the eyes...

...as he put Sally’s captive bolt pistol up against Sherlock’s forehead.

Sherlock broke out into tears, an ugly cry that was trying to make Mycroft change his mind, but only made him look more like the clown than a boy.

But that was kind of the point, Mycroft supposed.

“But you’re not Sherlock,” he said, his voice stronger and clearer than he felt inside.

And he let one last thought pass through his mind before he pulled the trigger, firing the bullet – or lack thereof – into Sherlock’s skull:

_Please don’t let this be a mistake._


End file.
